


Comfort

by spilled_notes



Series: Mad March Prompt Challenge [12]
Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-18
Updated: 2016-03-18
Packaged: 2018-05-23 23:38:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6134001
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spilled_notes/pseuds/spilled_notes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For the prompt 'one falling asleep with their head in the others' lap'.  When Phryne wakes in the night, she won't be alone with her pain.  Post-1.13 (King Memses' Curse).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Comfort

Mac watches Phryne from across the room. She is smiling and swaying to the music, her ridiculous wrap swirling around her legs, putting up a convincing front of normality. But everything is far from normal. The light glitters off her dress, spangling across her skin, but it’s only a near substitute for her usual glow. Under the rouge she is pale; under the vibrant red her lips are dry; there are smudges forming beneath her eyes that have nothing to do with her makeup.

Mac won’t leave her tonight. Phryne won’t ask, but she needs not to be alone. Needs someone to help keep the demons at bay.

*          *          *

Dot has gone to bed. Mr. Butler has carried Jane, who fell asleep in the window seat, upstairs, and is tidying the kitchen. Phryne is saying goodnight to Cec and Bert, the last to leave. When she comes back she finds Mac at one end of the chaise, jacket draped over the back, cravat loosened, boots kicked off. Phryne smiles gratefully and allows the mask to slip, the tiredness and grief to show. Her shoes and shawl join Mac’s boots in an untidy heap that will draw Dot’s quiet ire in the morning. She sits heavily, lets out a sigh.

‘You need to go to bed, get some sleep,’ Mac says firmly.

‘Five minutes?’

She looks so vulnerable, now that the glamour of the party has faded, that Mac can’t help but relent. She holds out her arm, but instead of leaning on her shoulder Phryne slides down to rest her head in her lap. Mac gently squeezes her arm then lets her hand fall to Phryne’s hair, running her fingers through the silken strands again and again.

‘Mmm, nice,’ Phryne murmurs, nestling closer. ‘Love you, Mac.’

‘I love you too, darling.’

She is asleep within minutes. Mac reaches awkwardly for her jacket, tugs it to cover Phryne’s bare skin as best she can.

Quiet footsteps herald Mr. Butler, looking in on his way to bed. He smiles softly when he sees his mistress asleep and disappears, only to return moments later with an armful of blankets. He tucks one carefully around Phryne and drapes the other over Mac’s shoulders.

‘Thank you,’ she mouths.

He crosses the room, draws the curtains and switches out the lamps, then pauses on the threshold and gestures to the light switch; Mac nods, and he flicks it off. When he closes the door with barely a sound, the room is plunged into darkness.

Phryne shifts in her sleep, whimpers softly; Mac returns to stroking her hair, and she soon settles again.

She will wake in the night, Mac knows, Janey’s name on her lips, or silent sobs wracking her body. Mac allows herself to fall into the light sleep of a doctor used to being on duty, safe in the knowledge that she will wake at the slightest stirring or sound. That Phryne will not be without comfort, will not be alone in the dark with her pain.


End file.
